Twenty six eleven
Permutation CityYou know how sometimes you have an experience that is like eh but not really as good as you hoped it would be? Reading Permutation City was like that. I like Greg Egan's writing. I enjoyed the collection of his short stories I read. They didn't all work but they were worth reading. And I've been focusing on scifi recently, particularly thinky or hard stuff.
So this was what I was looking for? Hmmmm.
Well, it was well written. And it had plenty of ideas. And the scifi was at least somewhat hard (although the "dust theory" is not all that plausible as Egan himself has accepted). But it was slightly hard going and I was glad to get through it. It wasn't that it didn't make sense. It was more that it didn't pay off. Two of the storylines didn't seem to add enough to merit their inclusion and the nonlinear framework seemed designed to confuse rather than intrigue.
So it was the definition of a three.
Sliding Doors
One of my sisters pointed out that the musing of one of my characters in something I'm writing is exactly the plot of Sliding Doors, and although I'd argue that I wrote it in a way that slightly obscures that, the truth is that it is, but Sliding Doors was never actually very original to begin with. It's an interesting counterpart to Permutation City though because it's a different view of the parallel universe. And it's a banger. Even though Gwyneth Paltrow and John Hannah have very little chemistry in my view. I was a bit afraid that I wouldn't like it as much as I used to because the sentimentality and corniness of the memes are so dated. But I did! I loved it just as much as I did back in the day. Between you and me -- and yes, I accept that I am a repulsive sexist -- I don't really enjoy romcoms if I'm not hot for the woman, and Gwyneth is no Kate Winslet. I don't like skinny, flat-arse or fragile at all (I think this might be because I don't particularly enjoy features you'd consider "masculine" to be reflected in women even if the same features would be very attractive in men), and I really disliked the Princess Di do as well. (In fact, I much preferred Jeanne Tripplehorn, although her character was yikes.) Still, she was engaging and attractive enough characterwise. And Hannah was Hannah. He's the same in absolutely everything and I don't hate that old school Hollywood thing where an actor just plays the same character regardless, so long as you like the character. I think a lot of us English types think of ourselves as that sort of charming romantic who can quote whole scenes of Monty Python and wish we had a table full of dining companions who screech with laughter when we do it...
Okay so I didn't claim it was realistic! But that's what makes it so good. It's like science fiction in that you don't just suspend disbelief. You leave that bitch at the door. A good old four.
The Running Man
There's been a few films recently that have divided opinion (although in the case of Bugonia that seems to have been everyone else and me), and this is one of them. Personally, I enjoy the reviews of the Critical Drinker -- who is an internet hater/misogynist/queerbaiter/whatever -- and Mark Kermode -- very much the Guardian wokey. They have different perspectives and if I see both of them, I can usually tell whether I want to watch something or not. Drinker has some interesting critique and doesn't enjoy pretentiousness, but also is primed to hate anything by women or for women. Kermode is clever, perceptive and tends to like things that I might yawn my way through. Drinker's good at nerdy, IP-based stuff and Kermode good at contextualising arty filth.
Well, Drinker hated Running Man big style. He thought the tone was off. He seemed really affronted that it was mildly amusing. I thought the tone was pretty good, although the Man himself seemed a bit more prone to rage than anything he encountered really merited, which I put down to poor direction. Kermode thought it was fun. I agreed with that. It was a romp and if it had been twenty minutes shorter or at least had a tighter last act, it would have been absolutely fine. As it was, I was squirming a bit at the end, but it was worth watching.
Derry Girls
So I really like TV that is warmhearted. I don't really mean overly sentimental so much as it portrays people with good hearts being good people -- even if they are sometimes doing not quite good things. I'm a big sucker for copaganda, shows like The Rookie or Chicago PD, which portray cops as decent people willing to do the right thing to keep us all safe. Not because I believe it but because I like the idea. It's fiction after all.
Now, a lot of people like Father Ted and the IT Crowd, and I watched an episode of Father Ted recently and disliked it. I actually find Linehan's comedies underwhelming precisely because they lack that good heart. They are mean. The characters aren't good people. They are there for us to laugh at, not with.
But Derry Girls has heart. It's bursting with it. The characters are just lovely people, presented with warmth, and even when you're laughing at them, there's no bitter taste. They're *silly* rather than venal. Even Colm is a kindly man, even if he's very boring. It's also screamingly funny, anchored by women with exquisite comic timing and a supporting cast full of character actors who are brilliantly written to make the whole a colourful and lively universe.
I think actually why I think this is so much better than Father Ted is that Ted does not have anything good to say. It's not situated in anything. It doesn't talk fondly about the church, about people, about anything. It's as remote from us as Craggy Island itself. You either find Linehan's jokes funny or you don't, and I've never really enjoyed him as a gag writer. I'd give you the IT Crowd, which is at least some of the time funny, but Black Books barely raises a smile. The characters have zero plausibility. I'll just say this about my theory of comedy. Clowns are funny because they touch their pain inside. They're funny because you empathise with them. British comedy often portrays characters that you feel that deep empathy for. Dylan Moran is just a cunt in Black Books. You're supposed to laugh at him because he's a cunt. I've never much liked comedies that rely on that (except for Peep Show, which is just screamingly funny). I loved Only Fools and Horses, where you feel for Del Boy and Rodney -- they are just so real. Maybe that's it. It's that Moran's character is just not real. Just not "feelable".
Lisa McGee is as funny as fuck. Her characters are *so* real. They are occasionally stereotypes but so are we often. Then she deftly paints in a detail and they show just that bit more depth. Michelle's pain over her brother's fate is moving and compelling. You root for these guys, and you can't do that for anyone in anything Linehan writes.
Five stars. I mean it. One of the best TV comedies. Not a single bad episode; not even a bad five minutes. If you haven't seen it, I thoroughly recommend it.
posted by Dr Zen @ 11:51 am
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